Reunion
by repulsive-addiction
Summary: Harry comes to the Hogwarts ten year reunion, and is overcome with old memories. What will he do when they discover the Dark Lord is amongst them? Read and Review please!
1. Reunion

Harry paused at the door, surveying the room. Clumps of people roamed the great hall, platters levitating around them, piled high with finger sandwiches. In the corner there were instruments playing themselves, and the enchanted ceiling had rearranged the stars to read:  
  
"Welcome to Hogwarts' Ten Year Reunion!"  
  
Harry looked down at the enchanted pamphlet, that told him exactly where everyone in the room was. There, his dot was green, with his initials on them. He spotted a purple dot moving faster than the other that were marked with a 'H.W.' He frowned...the dot was racing towards his dot, what...?  
  
Harry was nearly knocked over by a whirlwind of hair and lips and arms.  
  
"Harry we're so glad you came! I was worried you wouldn't show, what with the big quidditch match coming up, how have you been? Have you..." Harry easily tuned Hermione out, and smiled at the tall, slightly balding redhead.  
  
"Hey Ron." He greeted, and they shook hands awkwardly, both painfully aware that they'd grown too far apart to hug.  
  
"Come on Harry, let's go sit down!" Hermione caught his arm, jerking him to the table. Harry caught Ron's sympathetic glance, and grinned enduringly.  
  
"Well I don't suppose I have to ask what you're doing lately, we keep a scrapbook of all your news clippings." Harry was touched by the sentiment, and let a small smile develop on his face as Hermione chatted on, flashing pictures of their daughter, a tiny thing surrounded by giant red curls, bragging about how successful Ron's muggle business was going (Ron lifted his head proudly when she mentioned that), and describing the fascinating discovery she'd made with Sidgeon mold. As she explained the characteristics of this painfully boring subject, Harry realized that behind Hermione, Ron was lipping the exact words she spoke, as if he'd memorized this. Harry raised his eyebrow, and his smile widened.  
  
"Anyway when it's very very old it turns a dark green color, and develops these spots, I see you Ron Weasley!" Hermione whirled around to scold Ron, and Harry, chuckling, found a familiar face. Neville approached, and greeted them all with hearty handshakes, and a kiss on the cheek for Hermione.  
  
"'Lo Hermione, Harry, Ron. This is my wife, Celia. Celia, these are my old mates from Hogwarts." Neville beamed with pride, watching them all take in his wife. His veela wife.  
"Bloody brilliant!" Ron exclaimed, clapping Neville on the back, and then cringing from the glare Hermione sent him.  
  
"Oh you got married? How wonderful. Have you any children?" Celia shook her head smiling shyly. "Not yet, but maybe soon." Neville took her hand, and Celia looked upon him affectionately.  
  
"Well I'm going to see my old professor, bye all!" There was a chorus of "Goodbye Neville" and he was gone.  
  
"Wow." Harry sat back down, reaching for a drink, "Neville looks really happy."  
"Yes well he deserves it, what with the hard childhood he had. And his wife is so sweet! Did you see how they looked at each other? She adores him."  
  
"He certainly does seem more confident."  
  
The music stopped, and everyone looked to the stage expectantly. With a cloud of smoke, a very tall, very old wizard appeared.  
  
"Dumbledore." Harry whispered, overwhelmed with emotions as he watched his old headmaster clear his throat.  
  
"Welcome, welcome everyone. I am very pleased to see how successful the outcome of this reunion was. You all seem happy, successful, but remember this; No matter how much older you look, or how much wiser you feel, you will always have something new to learn."  
  
Harry scowled at this, momentarily reliving just how true that statement was. He had survived the wrath of the Dark Lord, had eventually learned to live without constantly looking over his shoulder, had even grown up to become one of the most famous seekers in history. But no matter what, he never truly had control of his own life, ever since the day he was placed on the Dursley's doorstep; he had a fate and could not escape it.  
  
Harry shook away his bitter mood, and returned his attention to the speech.  
"...You are all invited to stay for the night, of course the rooms have been enchanted for the occasion, and you will all receive your own sleeping chambers. In the morning there will be a lovely breakfast." There was applause, and Harry clapped heartily, noticing the teachers coming in from a side door. There weren't many left from his era; McGonagal was still here, looking as stern as ever. Snape as well, was still slithering about, his hair now a solid gray. Hagrid had died of heart problems the year before, Harry and Dumbledore had been the only to show for the funeral.  
  
Harry silently berated himself for such glum memories, and turned to say something to Ron, but instead movement near the door caught his eye.  
  
Harry had read about ones' heart skipping a beat in books and such, but had never experienced this first hand, until he spotted the sleek blonde gliding into the room. Skip. Harry's heart sped up, seemingly to make up for the missed beat, and Harry swallowed hard.  
The years had been good to Draco, as shown by his gleaming hair, slicked back as always, and his pale skin fairly and aglow. His face has matured to look much like his fathers, sharper profile, fuller lips, and the Malfoy cheekbones that somehow made him look like royalty. To his right was a daintily perfect girl. Her hair was a long cascade of ebony, her face crafted delicately and her eyes a razor sharp green, darker than Harry's. He felt something, a queasy feeling come over him as he realized the resemblance between this girl and himself.  
  
Beside him, Harry knew without looking that Ron was tensing up, his hands tightening into fists, and Hermione was stroking his shoulder soothingly. He suddenly felt everything change, could almost hear the click as they regressed back into their childhood personalities, a costume that fit so well Harry wondered if they hadn't been lurking just beneath their skin the whole time. 


	2. Flashbacks and Beer

As Harry watched the ex-slytherin mingle, he felt a memory begin to worm its way up through his subconscious, to rest on the surface. He was no more the successful, confident man he'd grown into, but once again an awkward teen, unaware of who he really was, and trying to make himself something he simply was not.  
  
Harry was sixteen, newly aware of his sexuality, and mortified beyond recognition that he had what could only be described as a crush. And on who? Why none other than Draco Malfoy of course. Harry's life always had to be that much more complicated. He couldn't just be a boy who survived the dark lord, No he had to be The Boy who would one-day Destroy the Dark Lord. And he couldn't simply be gay could he? He had to be The Gay Boy in Love with his Straight Enemy. Harry sighed, finally resigned to the fact that he was obviously living in some strange fantasy soap opera, and would one-day fall into a mysterious coma. Harry watched as the boy Draco looked at him through his crowd of admirers. He smirked, and wiggled an eyebrow suggestively, and Harry hung his head in defeat. How Draco knew, Harry had no idea, but he was sure he did. And he was just waiting for the blackmailing part of this soap opera.  
  
"Harry?" He snapped out of his memory, and shuddered. What had that been? Less of reminiscence and more of a forced image. He tried to shake the feeling of estrangement off, but this time his emotions would simply not be shaken. Plan B; ignore them. Harry mustered up a smile at Hermione, and said,  
  
"Do you want to dance?" Hermione giggled, and blushed.  
  
"If it's ok with Ron..."  
  
"Course it is." Ron said easily. Harry took Hermione's hand and led her onto the dance floor, wrapping his arms loosely around her waist.  
  
"Harry, "Hermione murmured, their faces too close for him to see her expression, "Do you remember that we danced here, in this very hall almost eleven years ago?" Harry grinned fondly at the memory.  
  
"We were trying to make Ron jealous, so he'd admit he fancied you." Hermione laughed softly, and Harry could feel it against his neck. He sighed, and felt himself relax again in the embrace of his old friend. Not many people understood him, certainly not Hermione, but there was always a sense of acceptance, the way she spoke like she loved him even if he was crazy. Harry momentarily considered telling her that he was gay, but kept the secret locked amongst the others instead. Who knew what that would do to his career? No one wanted to root for a gay quidditch player. Instead he leaned down and let his face bury in her hair. This was security he hadn't felt for a long time, and he relished in it. When the dance ended, Harry bowed mockingly, and Hermione giggled again. They walked back to the table, where Ron was sitting tight lipped, eyes narrowed. He looked from Hermione to Harry, but didn't say a word. Harry felt a second's guilt but was saved by the drawling voice of Draco Malfoy.  
  
"I'm surprised to see you here Potter. Thought you'd be off practicing. Big game an' all." Harry turned and was momentarily dazzled into silence by the up close beauty of Draco. He recovered quickly however, and replied smoothly,  
  
"I didn't know you were so eager to see me Malfoy."  
  
"'Course I am. Haven't had a good laugh in a while now." At this time, he let his icy gaze slide over Hermione and Ron, who seemed so full of tension he might combust at any moment. "And you are Mrs. Weasley now? How perfectly horrible. I can just imagine you with your twelve children in your shack."  
  
"Malfoy." Ron snarled, and took a step forward, only to be pulled back into place by Hermione. Harry felt a flicker of pity for Ron, always controlled by his wife. He suddenly noticed the girl next to Draco, smirking silently. Now that he saw her up close, they didn't seem so much alike. Her nose was thinner, cheekbones higher, mouth smaller. But the resemblance was still undeniable; the coloring of her hair, her eyes... even the way she smirked was resemblant to Harry's own.  
  
"And what of you Malfoy? New...woman in your life?" Harry emphasized the word 'woman', and Draco winced a bit. Harry smiled triumphantly.  
  
"This is my fiancé' actually, Penelope Criddle." Harry's gaze met Draco's and they sized each other up, both cool, both pretending not to care. Suddenly Harry realized that they had no reason to even attempt polite conversation, and with a quirk of his mouth, said,  
  
"Well we must be going, want to talk to someone worth our time." And stalked away, followed closely by Ron and Hermione. He didn't care if that was childish, or if Draco's precious Penelope had a bad view on him now. It had felt good to get the last word, and Harry celebrated with a couple glasses of beer. 


	3. The Worst

As Harry stumbled down the hall, using the wall as support, he considered the idea that he'd had too many drinks.  
  
"Nah." He snorted, and found the door in which Harry Potter was elegantly carved He opened the door and collapsed on the bed within.  
"Ok...maybe just a few too many drinks. Gonna have a monster hang over to....morrow." Harry mumbled under his breathe before completely passing out.  
  
Harry was dreaming, nightmares mixed in with sweet fantasies, memories, pains and pleasures.  
  
'He is in detention with Draco for breaking out in a small wizard duel during defense against the dark arts class. Harry is trying not to notice Draco, and pretending to read a book he'd found in the desk. Draco walks swiftly over and pulls the book from his hand. Draco chuckles, and throws the book to the floor.  
"Another romantic novel full of heaving bosoms and undestroyable love." he scoffs, "Something any housewife would need."  
"Don't you believe in love?" The question is so frank it catches Draco off-guard, forcing him to answer seriously.  
"Not in the typical sense, no. I don't believe there's one person in the whole fucking world that could make me happy. I believe love is an emotion, and no emotion lasts forever."  
"No," Harry agrees questly, "But it always lingers in the back of your head. Every emotion you've ever felt, you still feel, only fainter right?" Draco looks away.  
"No." An uneasy silence settles around them, and they're eyes refuse to meet for the rest of the hour.'  
  
Harry moans and rolls over, his dreams swiftly changing course, darkening.  
  
' He is before Voldemort in all his power, quaking with rage at this thing that has made his life such hell.  
"I hate you! He screams and throws his wand at the creature. The wand hits the dark lord's face and he combusts into a million fiery explosions. Harry can hear the horrible shrieks of pain fade away and now it's day. He's in the commons, where he shares his first kiss with Draco. He sees himself from a corner, sees Draco throw an insult at him but is too far away to hear. His younger face and Draco glare at each other, moving closer until their anger has faded and their lips are pressed together.'  
  
"...No!" Harry yelled, waking himself up, panting and sweating. "Gods." He muttered, and rubbed his eyes. "Is it morning already?" His question was answered by the hesitant knock on his door. Harry held his breath...it couldn't be...?  
  
"Yes?" His voice only squeaked slightly, and the door opened so slowly...  
  
"Harry aren't you dressed yet? Come on your going to miss breakfast!" Harry let out his breath, and told himself he wasn't disappointed.  
  
"All right Hermione I'll meet you down there." He collapsed back onto the bed and sighed.  
  
"Whoa Harry, you look like shite." Ron greeted him, and Harry smiled ruefully.  
  
"Yeah...probly had a few too many last night." He patted his stomach and Ron grinned in return. Harry felt releved that the earlier tension had dissolved. Maybe Hermione had probably talked him out of his jealousy. Harry took a piece of bacon and bit into it, looking forward to packing and going back home. His safe, Draco free home.  
  
"Ladies and gentle wizards may I have your attention please?" Everyone stopped and looked to Dumbledore, eager for the goodbye speech. Harry frowned. Dumbledore had that fogged-over troubled look in his eyes. Harry hadn't seen that since his last year in Hogwarts when...  
  
"I'm afraid I have some bad news." Now there was a deadly silence in the room. Harry felt the edge of panic in his conscious, and told himself not to freak, that this was something silly, like maybe they were out of pancakes or something...It didn't work. Years of assuming the worst and being right had made their mark on him.  
  
"I seems that He Who Cannot Be Named is not dead after all, and that he is somewhere in the school." Harry's heart didn't skip this time. It stopped cold. He choked for a moment on his bacon, but coughed it back up after a hard pounding on the back from Ron. Dumbledore continued. "We have informed the wizards council and they have requested that we all stay here. There are dementors on the way as we speak, and He who Cannot be Named will be found. Until then, I suggest that you stay together..." The time that Harry stopped hearing what Dumbledore was saying, was around the same time that he noticed everyone's eyes on him. They were eyes of terror, eyes full of questions, but worse of all they were eyes shooting silent accusations at him 'You weren't good enough you didn't save us you failed your no hero didn't fulfill your destiny' were the thoughts he could almost hear coming from them.  
  
Harry stood, and stumbled out of the room, suddenly unable to breathe. 


End file.
